After the Lights Go Out
by Punzie the Platypus
Summary: After the arrow hits the force field in the Games, the electricity goes out in District 12. Bombs come, and Gale takes charge in getting people out of the district. Taking them to the lake, he can only hope that the fictional District 13 is not fictional at all. Gale's point of view of how he saved the people from District 12.
1. The Bombs Come

**DISCLAIMER: I do NOT own the Hunger Games. So, here's an idea I've been dwelling on. It'll be three or four or five chapters, depending on what I can dish out. Yeah. I hope you like it!**

**~ Gale Hawthorne's point of view ~ **

The television's flickering, but the picture stays bright. My mother and Rory and Vick are watching with big eyes. I stand against the wall toward the side of our small TV. I watched much of last year's Hunger Games in the Hob, away from the worried eyes of my mother. With the Hob burnt down, I've been watching it at home. I'd rather not. Mandatory viewing, though.

I'm working on a new net, hoping to see if I could sneak to the woods tomorrow, when the screen lights up with sparks. Lightening and bright white light with a terrible crash. I look closer. The camera hurries away from Katniss, who falls with her bow. Her arrow falls back at her, landing limply beside her.

Dropping my net, I hurry to the screen, and I can hear celebratory explosions from the Capitol, trying to cover up the victors' work.

"What's that noise?" asks Vick.

Watching the screen, I say grimly, "That's the finale."

And the screen in front of me turns black.

It's not too surprising, with our electricity in this damn district and the fact that we've just witnessed one of the single most rebellious things that you will ever see on television. However, so does the one light that we have, and suddenly everything grows quiet. Deathly quiet. I straighten and look around.

"What is it, Gale?" Mom asks, watching me as I hurry to the door.

"I don't know," but I do. Slinging my net over my shoulder, I hurry out of the house into the dark and dusty Seam. It's looking even more dilapidated than usual. All I see is a few dogs walking around, panting as they nose around for food scraps. I shake my head. They're not going to find any.

Looking around, the sky is dark. Even darker than usual. I squint when I think I can hear something. A low rumble, like something that's about to explode into something. Because I used to go hunting (not so much anymore, thanks to Thread), I'm used to my ears being alert. Even now, I can tell that the rumbling's getting louder.

There's only one thing that could be. The Capitol.

We've got to get out of here. Fast. I dart into the house, where Vick and Rory are standing, looking confused. Mom stands up, Posy asleep against her shoulder, and asks worriedly, "What is it?"

"Hovercrafts. We need to get out of here. Now," I say, and hurrying to Vick and Rory, I shove them to the door. "MOVE! GET GOING!"

My mom hurries to the door, Vick and Rory looking frightened. Posy wakes up but the rumbling is louder. Hovercrafts are quiet. These can't be hovercrafts. I can hear it even above Posy's crying, and as Mom shushes her, so does everyone else.

We're out the door, and I command, "Get to the meadow. Under the gate."

"But the power-" Rory says.

I quickly cut him off. "Is off. Get out of here. Get to the woods."

I turn and Mom says, "Gale! Where are you going?"

Turning enough just to catch a glance of her tired, dusty face, I say, "People need to know, Mom," and I bolt through the Seam. The evening grows darker and my heart pounds with unknown fear as I go to doors, pounding and yelling for people to get.

At Thom's house, which houses ten people, he opens the door. He's one of my friends and crewmates at the mines. He nods and shouts for me to hurry before he turns and starts to take command of his house.

To Reeba's. To Greasy Sae's, where she immediately starts moving her creaky bones to find her granddaughter, who's not right in the head. I hurry to Bristel's shack, which has her grandmother and her brother. I can hardly think, let alone move now. Running through the Seam. Haven't done that in a while. Haven't had much time outside since my whipping. Pretty sure that my hours would have been doubled if they could because of that. Unfortunately, they already were.

Thinking back to the arena, I wonder what's going to happen to everyone there. Nothing better than us. Those hovercrafts are coming closer. They're going to come with weapons and maybe Peacekeepers, with guns. Maybe I should have invested with taking my knife from under the floorboards of my house.

"Bristel!" I yell, and she emerges, her raggedy hair all around her shoulders.

"What?" she asks.

"The Capitol is coming. You need to get your grandmother and your brother out. To the Meadow. NOW, or I swear you'll be killed." She nods, and I can already feel the breeze that hovercrafts create sweep across the Seam.

"Are you going to warn town?" she asks, looking toward the town part of District 12.

I look to it, and I nod before turning to her. "Tell anyone you can to move, but _you need_ to get to the Meadow. Under the gate, to the woods, now MOVE."

She nods and hurries back into the grey building and I hurry toward the town. Though the town sucks, considering how they live in luxury rather than pure poverty, the humane part of me kicks in. There's the bakery, which I guess to be freaking out because of Peeta Mellark. I frown, though I know he's back in that chaotic arena, and pound to town. That pregnancy bit he pulled makes me want to shoot something.

There's the apothecary, and I wonder if they're going to spare the Justice Building when I realize there's someone else in town. Madge Undersee, the mayor's daughter. We have a rough relationship, mostly consisting of strawberries and hunting. I wonder how she's taking this.

And there's two people that I've sworn to save. For Katniss. For myself. I'm almost at the border, near Victor's Village, which looks eerily calm. There's one light on at the house where Mrs. Everdeen and Prim live. Hope they're ready to leave. Katniss will never forgive me, and I'll never forgive myself if Mrs. Everdeen and Prim dies, especially by my hand.

The door opens before I can even knock, and Prim says, "Gale, what's happening?"

I can see Mrs. Everdeen in the background, and Prim moves to let me into the nicely furbished house. Mrs. Everdeen is drained of color and I say, "There's hovercrafts. They're coming with weapons and probably tons of Peacekeepers. They're coming now, AND WE NEED to get to the woods."

"Of course," she says faintly, and I nod and grab Prim's hand. She looks up at me, wide-eyed, as I hurry past the door, Mrs. Everdeen coming out a moment later. Our footsteps pound against the walk and out onto the road.

"Wait, wait, Buttercup!" Prim says, pulling hard and planting her feet into the walk.

I stop long enough to look to her. She has tears streaming down her face, and she says, "Buttercup's in the house, Gale! We need to save him!"

"Prim," I say urgently. She doesn't understand that you can't just go in after a cat when there's hovercrafts over our districts and our lives and homes are in danger THIS VERY SECOND. "We have to go."

"Gale, Gale, please!" she says, and Mrs. Everdeen hurries and whispers something into her ear before she grabs her hand and hurries down to where there's people from the Seam going to the woods, looking confused as they walk.

"Hurry," I say, and then there's the town. There's going to be hundreds of people at the big screen by the square, looking around blankly. I start running toward it, hoping some of them have the sense to move when the sound of the hovercrafts or whatever the hell the Capitol's flying over us grows louder and there's a bright light followed by an explosion. Fire and sparks and flames cover a building. I stop, and feel frozen once I skid down the pebble road. The first building gone is the Mellark Bakery.

There's no time to go in there now. Another bomb falls, and I watch it hit the apothecary. Those aren't hovercrafts. Those are planes, and before I can move my feet, a house near me explodes, and I instantly crouch with a yell as hot sparks leap at me. I immediately turn and hurry to the woods. There's no chance in going back there without being blown up. This is what the Capitol does. A sign of rebellion means discipline. Though, I hardly call bombing one of its own districts discipline. It's war.

This is the start of a rebellion. This is spark, literally, that fires it all up. And I'm all for it. I've been wanting a rebellion ever since I can remember. Better late than never.

I let out another loud gasp as I instantly take my hand away from my cheek in order not to burn it. I might get a blister. My cheek no doubt is blistered, and the pain surrounding and accumulating on that one piece of flesh hurts like hell. Explosions ring through the air. The Capitol is not holding back. They're angry. Katniss has ruined their Games twice. I highly doubt when (if) she gets out of there she'll get out of this one easily. Oh, Catnip.

At the fence, I see Thom. He's helping his old grandfather, who's covered with dust. He looks to me, same hair but blue eyes, and says, "How's town?"

"There's bombs. It's getting blown up as we speak," I say, and another large explosion makes the ground rumble, and people shudder. I recognize several people from the Seam. Living in such a small area, we get to know each other, and I swear I've traded a few squirrels with some of these people. There's people from the Hob, and they're looking to me.

I hurry to the hole in the fence, and I somehow know that the planes are not far behind. "Come on! We need to get under the fence!" I aggressively push away the fence and dirt, and turning, I demand, "Help me move it! We need to get out of the district!"

A few of my crewmates come to help me. Thom ends up next to me, the sounds of explosions echoing behind us.

"We don't have a lot of time," I say quickly as we start to pull up the fence from the bottom. There's no chance of getting who knows how many crying babies and worried mothers and trying-to-stay-calm fathers out by them going through the hole one by one. We have to dig up the fence.

The fence gets pulled up, and straightening, I wave my hand, shouting, "Come on! Get under! Go to the woods!" Not many people move forward, and I realize something. These people are afraid of the woods. They've been living in the Seam their entire lives, the district, where there's few trees and no deadly dogs or wolves. There's a few in the woods, albeit yes, but it's mostly just hyped up talk to keep people from venturing into the woods.

Maybe it's the fact that it's forbidden. Maybe it's the idea that there's wild animals that will rip you to shreds like in the Hunger Games that's holding people back. It's not an arena out there. How to tell that to people, though.

"Look, you need to get out. There's a few wild wolves, but it's either them or the Capitol's bombs," I shout as Rory, Mom, Vick and Posy go under the fence. Thom starts his family and Bristel hers, and Mrs. Everdeen comes forward, an arm around Prim, whose tears are dampening her mother's dress.

Greasy Sae comes forward, ushering her granddaughter forward, and giving me a waning smile. People from the Hob start to go under too, and people from the mines, and finally people are moving under the fence, gaining speed and running to the woods.

I look around for a minute once there's nobody that I can see in the Meadow. I look to the town, though I can't see it from the Meadow, and I realize that they're not going to spare anyone there. Not the people, the Peacekeepers. Not the mayor. Not the mayor's daughter.

Repositioning my net so that it stays on my shoulder, I pull up the wire and head under it. Thumping against the dirty grass, I can still hear the bombs fill District 12 with explosions and flames. They're taking out the houses. I race to the leaf-covered trees. They're taking out the entire district.

People mill about in the woods. The dark trees are scaring the kids, with owls hooting and the occasional lonely howl of a wolf. Many stay at the edge as they watch the Capitol destroy everything we've ever worked for. There's a large explosion, bigger than the rest. I have a bitter feeling there goes the coal mines.

In a wide, dead log, beaten into the dark forest floor, I kneel and my hands search inside of it. I grasp the two bows, Katniss's and mine, and then two deerskin quivers. Tough and leathery. Her father made them, and we've been using them to carry our arrows. My hand doesn't sting too much. Guess it didn't get as burned as I thought.

Straightening, I distract myself by putting the bows and quivers on my back. I let out a hiss as I feel my shirt scratch against a cut that never fully healed. I hear rustling above the noises and screams and cries of the babies and my mom's beside me.

"Gale?" she says. I look to her, and she adds, "What are we going to do?"

I look away from her and look to the woods. Somewhere. It's there. I know paths and directions pretty well. I'm sure I can get us there.

"We're going to the lake," I say.

"The lake?" she asks. "What lake?"

I gulp. "Katniss's lake."

**MADGE. WHY YOU DIE. Anyway, I hope you like the first chapter, and thanks for reading!**


	2. Hunting and The House

**DISCLAIMER: I do NOT own the Hunger Games. Hope y'all like this chappie! (Y'all aren't reviewing as much. Is there a reason, a critique that could help me? Thanks!)**

Shoes crunch and thump against the forest floor. It's still covered in stray autumn leaves that the ground never fully absorbed. I usually try not to make much noise in the woods, but then again, I'm usually sleeking around the woods, stringing up snares and watching for the night's supper and bargaining chips to appear. This time around, with hundreds of people depending on me, the only one here that knows anything about the woods, I let the issue of our incredible noise pass.

Besides, the noise is nearly drowned out by the sound of bombs back in District 12. While they're not close enough that there's bombs going off in the woods, it's the next worse thing, and people are nervous as they walk through the forbidden forest.

I'm at the front, and I grimace as Posy slips further down my shoulder. Mom got tired after a while, carrying Posy and a bag of stuff she was able to grab from our crowded, tiny house, and with me only carrying a couple of bows, arrows and a net, I quickly took her. She's against my shoulder, sleeping and snoring in my ear. She's getting big, but she's too small and tired to trudge like the rest of us. I can feel her against my burnt cheek, making it burn even more. I just press my lips together and carry on, shoving her up when my arm goes lax and she starts slipping.

Next to me is Thom, his lips too set in a straight line. He and Bristel, who's a few yards back, are the two I usually talk to inside of District 12. He knows that I go into the woods, having questioned me a couple of years back, and he says nothing but trusts me as I lead us into the dark wilderness. It's funny, like we almost don't need light to make our way through the tall trees and animals. With the arena blowing up and the Capitol's fireworks and bombs, it's been a hell of a lit evening.

But we put a lot of distance between us and District 12, and eventually the colors of the burning explosions faded, and we were forced to light a few torches. Every few yards, there was a person, usually a tall one, carrying one, giving light to that part of our strange crew. With the light, they watch for any animals that might try to attack our practically unarmed forces. The torchlight, though, is not enough to fight the cold that's coming in. While it's still only late summer, it's already cold at night, and Rory and Vick give random shudders as they trudge behind me.

It's nearly dawn, the sun peeking out from behind the trees with white light by the time that Mom comes up to me and asks, sounding tired but strong, "How much - Gale, what happened to your cheek?"

"Got burned. Was near an exploding building," I say, and I try to ignore the pain overtaking nearly half of my face.

"We need to take care of that-"

"How?"

"We'll find herbs and Beatrice can treat you. Okay?"

Beatrice is Mrs. Everdeen. To reassure my mother, I nod.

"All right. How much longer do you think we have to go?"

"A couple of minutes," I say quietly.

She nods, and despite our threadbare shoes and our tired limbs, we carry on until we pass a grove of trees and I let out a long breath as the house that Katniss shows me comes to our view. It's small, and dirty looking against the moonlit sky, but it's the only thing I - _we've _got.

"That's it?" Thom asks as I stop, breathing hard.

"What, you expected a bigger house just to show up in the woods?" I say in a would-be joking voice, if I wasn't so tired.

He shrugs and says, "I guess not."

"Come on," I say as I start walking again, pushing Posy back up, "help me set up."

Upon actually getting to the house, I enter and look around, and I see the fireplace, with a few sticks of wood next to it. I shift Posy as Thom and my mom walk in, but I barely notice them. The last time that I was here was when Katniss called for a meeting with me. I was barely able to sneak out to talk to her, and we argued. Our only chance in a while after the kiss, and we argued.

I had walked out after refusing a gift from her.

I stare at the fireplace, and my mom asks, "Gale?"

"Yeah?" I say, not looking at her, and Posy's weight feels heavier than ever.

"Shall we start to set up?"

I nod. I'm going to have to push the thoughts and memories of Katniss out of my head. I've got people to take care of, people who have never stepped one foot into the woods, whose homes have been blown up by people we've already hated.

Things just keep getting better and better.

I kneel and shrug Posy off so she's leaning against the door frame. Standing up, I look to my mother, and I sigh, knowing that tonight's not going to end for a while for either of us. Not that we're not used to hard work. Mom and I were and are the ones who've supported our family ever since Dad died and we had no choice. It's just another part of taking care of Rory, Vick and Posy. Just add another eight hundred people and easy peasy.

"We should start up fires. We need to keep warm, and the wild animals need to be warded off," I say. Frowning, I continue, "We'll set up guards, and . . ." Looking to my shoulder, my practically finished net shifts against my neck. "I'll see about the non-existent food supply."

Mom nods and she and Thom and I head out of the house and we get to work. Within an hour of ordering, persuading, and a bit of threatening (who knew that the Seam had so many cowardly teens), things start to take shape. People, with Thom, who I encourage to go out, and Bristel and I in groups, head to the edges of the lake and house vicinity and pick up firewood.

Fire begin to dot the area as people venture out a little more, being a little more reassured, and bring more firewood, building up the fires. Younger kids are taken into the house where there's walls. I kneel and start a fire in the fireplace around me as parents walk around me, laying their sleeping children on the ground. Luckily, there's no injured people, for we were able to get out of the district before they bombed the Seam, which was sort of weird. Katniss was from the Seam. Would have made more sense to bomb her actual home.

Guess they forgot that part. She lives, or lived, in Victor's Village. Town. I scrape at the flint I have, watching the dead wood as a spark starts, and within a few minutes, I'm standing, watching a flickering fire crackle in the fireplace.

By the light of the campfires, Mrs. Everdeen manages to find an herb for my face. She beats it up with spit and rubs the poultice on my cheek, which sears with pain at the cool herb.

I hiss, and her hand slips off. "That should work," she says quietly.

I thank her and pick up my bow, tell Mom where I'm headed.

I walk around our quickly assembled camp. People meet my eyes, and I look away. I'm looking for Bristel and Thom, so they can help me. We need to fish, and soon. Another sleepless night because who knows how long this arrangement is going to be. How long it's going to last.

There's no telling what the Capitol will do with our district. They might stop for a few days, give us a little reassurance that they're done, and then let us investigate the district and catch us in their trap with more bombs. We might go back, and we might not. Life as we know it is gone. With no District 12 and a rebellion on the horizon, it's just a matter of time before we're in the fight.

Bristel is by a fire, keeping her grandmother from going too close to the fire. I let out a whistle and she looks up at me.

"Want to help me fish?" I ask, and I suddenly realize how stupid that sounds since she's never fished before a day in her life.

"Yes," she says quickly, no nonsense. She stands and looking down, says, "Deto, don't let Grandma fall in the fire."

Her brother, fifteen-years-old, nods, and we fall into step as we start walking.

"Going to find Thom first?" she asks.

I shrug. "Of course." Looking around, I tense and set my lips together and Bristel stays quiet.

We find Thom amongst the groups of people, hanging with his family. He looks up when Bristel hurries to him, telling him what we're about to do. My hand reaches up and draws the net off of my shoulder, and I can't help but stare at it. I worked on it for the entirety of the Quarter Quell. Only took me three days. Took the tributes the same amount of time. It's pulled in places when I was angry, like when Peeta hit that force field, and when they attacked the cornucopia. It's nearly finished, though, and I'm going to have to disassemble it, like Katniss disassembled their Games.

Thom and Bristel join me and we head to the lake. It's nearly seven o'clock now, and the sun's peeking further through. The lake, quiet and calm, shivers when I dip a stick into it, checking the depth.

Thom and Bristel are looking around, exclaiming amongst themselves, but I stay quiet as I squat and began to pull apart my net.

"What are you doing that for?" Bristel asks as she sits down next to me. She throws off her worn shoes, gently, though, for she only has one pair, and dips her blistered feet into the lake. Her head leans back and she lets out a breath of relief.

I shrug as she watches me. Thom squats next to me and I hand him a string of rope that's sort of frayed at the end.

"What am I supposed to do with this?" he asks. "Come on, Gale. I'm not you."

"Wait a minute, okay?" I ask, and I begin to collect little things at the edge of the lake. Pieces of grass, twigs, bark, anything. I manage to carve a slender little hook out of a twig, and I tie it to the frayed edges.

"That's impressive," Thom says as he looks it over. I start making one for Bristel. "Almost as good as that woman from Four's."

I grimace, not wanting to be reminded of the Games at the moment, and toss one to Bristel, who catches it and sits up straighter.

"Let's see how much fish we can get," I say. I retie the net's ends that I stripped the rope from. "Dig around in the ground until you find worms. Stick them to the bottom of the hook, and throw it in. You've got to be patient, though, waiting for them to bite."

They do so, and I walk a couple of yards away so that the net won't get entangled with the fishing lines. Throwing out the net into the lake while keeping a hold on it, fish seem to be nibbling on it. This is going to be much harder to find enough food for several hundred people than it ever was with just myself and Katniss supporting our families. Once we're done and the people around us are more awake, I can see about showing them edible plants. We're going to need a steady, strong supply of food, though only my mother and I are the only ones who really know what can be eaten around here. I've brought home several different things, and she can recognize them. The kids never really bothered with identifying food. I was going to teach them when they were older.

Nothing. I toss out the net again and stifle a yawn.

Time passes slowly. Bristel and Thom throw out their lines again and again before Bristel lets out a shout too loud for this early. She pulls out, real slowly, a long trout, and she instantly puts it on the ground.

"It's not dead yet," she says.

I nod, walking and stooping over it, and twist the head. None of us even grimace. We've all seen more gruesome stuff in the Games. I go back to my net and throw it out once more. It seems that the fish are all toward the middle of the lake, away from the edges and toward the darker, deeper waters. Walking around the lake, I throw my net again and again, but nothing comes up to bring back in.

Thom brings up a trout and manages to kill it before it dies of lack of water. He looks to me throwing the net out again, disgruntled, "You haven't caught any yet. Why are you even trying?"

He's not trying to sound harsh, or demeaning, or taunting, but is just pointing out a fact. It's my nature, I guess, to take it the other way, though. He wasn't questioning my fishing. He was questioning the point of me even trying something, even if it may or is a failure.

Looking up to him and meeting his eyes, I say evenly, "Because if I don't, people are going to die. If we don't have enough food, people will start dropping, Thom. I don't want this to turn into another Hunger Games, where people go one by one. That's why." I look around and draw out the net, crumpling it up into a wet pile in my hands. "I'm going to see about shooting. Do either of you know where Rory is?"

Bristel points and I find him and say, "Want to go hunting with me?"

He looks a little reluctant, but nods as he stands up. I nod for him to follow me. He hasn't done the best job in hunting. Back in the summer, he told me that Katniss tried teaching him how to hunt. Apparently, he couldn't get the hang of it.

I didn't get the hang of shooting until I had practiced for three hours straight. He needs motivation, like I had. Not that he needs to learn to provide for my entire family. Well, he does. I was only a little older than him when I needed to learn how to hunt. Now, there's no more practicing for him. It's now or never.

I crouch by the foundation of the house where the bows and arrows are, tossing him the net, and he asks, "Is anyone else coming?"

"Didn't ask anybody else," I say.

"You could teach some people to set up snares. It'd help, I think," Rory points out.

I nod slowly as I stand up, tall, next to him. He's only a foot shorter than me.

"Yeah," I say, "let's do that. Here." I offer him Katniss's bow. I'm much more relaxed with my own, though it slowly kills me to hand him it. It's been her bow for years and years. It's the only bow she's used, and it's kept more meat on both of our tables than mine. I'm better with snares.

He takes it, and an image floods my mind. Katniss, with a bow and an arrow, with wire, firing at the force field at the Hunger Games. She started all of this. I can only hope that she somehow gets out alive enough to see the action.

Nodding, I hurry through the camp. Bristel and Thom are already set up with their fishing lines. No point in taking them away from their spots. Greasy Sae is too old to do anything but cook whatever we find. I do spot Don, though, and Kashen and Darek. They work in the mines, but when they could, they would show up at the Hob with their wares of herbs and broken little things that only poor people, like us, would want. Approaching them, I know that they can help.

I explain, and they give each other quizzical looks before they immediately stand up, ready to help. They're the kind of people that are the opposite of the Capitol. They'll work for whatever is practical and necessary. Capitol citizens care about the length of their nails and the styles of cat whiskers and shimmering polishes.

They fall in step with me, and Rory brings up the rear. At the edge of our camp, Don asks, "Is it safe?"

"It's not as dangerous as they say it is," I reply. It IS dangerous, of course, with wolves and rabid dogs and protective mothers with sharp teeth, but over the years, Katniss and I have thinned the population. Only, this summer I've barely been out here. Only on Sundays, and only then a couple of times. I can only hope that Katniss and I took down enough babies in the spring before the Hunger Games so that there's not a new bunch of adults prowling the woods. "I mean, there's wild animals, but I've got my bow."

"That'll help," Darek says. He sounds sort of sarcastic. He has buzzed Seam hair, grey palms and a good six inches over me. He trusts me, I'm sure, but still apprehensive.

I step in first, and Rory hurries to catch step with me. He trusts me more than the other men do, and what I do, he'll do. It's an advantage of being his older brother. I smile at the thought and take a turn and walk. I point out some edible plants as we walk. Wild onions and watercress and cattails near a pond. Nettles and dandelions. At a pond, I see katniss plants.

I stop next to one of my snares. We've gone probably twenty, thirty minutes, to where I usually have my network of snares. In the snare is a dead squirrel, but its been dead for days, maybe even weeks. It reeks, and everyone except me stand back, away from the stink.

Sighing, I walk over and stoop near it. I unloop it and toss it away. Even though I usually take what I can get, I have to think of our health as well.

I turn so that the men and Rory can see what I'm doing and I say, "I'm going to show you all how to set up a snare." Pointing to Rory's hands, I say, "You can dismantle the net and set up your own snares. I'm only going to show you once, so pay attention." They better.

They stand, attentive, as my long fingers work rope from the net and into a snare. Using some branches, offering a few words of commentary, I manage to break out a fairly good snare. I check it with my fingers. It's tight, and it'll capture the animal's foot.

"So that's it. Remember where you set them. Would be bad if you set a snare you couldn't find," and they laugh a bit. I stand and toss the rope to Darek, who catches it. I walk over to Rory and I say, "Any of you have a knife?"

"I do," says Kashen, and I nod.

"Use it to protect yourselves," I say. I put a hand on Rory's shoulder. "Rory and I are going hunting," and I urge him forward before they can say anything. We need perfect silence to hunt. They're too loud.

We walk in tense silence, the idea of what we're doing looming over our heads. Rory gulps as he tries to stay as quiet as he can. Poor kid's not doing well. We keep walking, though our legs scream for us to stop. We do at a ridge.

"Crouch, okay?" I say. He does so and we look over the ridge.

I show him how to hook an arrow up, and I almost laugh when his arrow falls off six feet off of the ridge.

"Careful," I say, and within two minutes, he's in position. Getting into a comfortable sitting arrangement, I feel a pang when I realize how much he looks like I did. He's smaller, shorter and younger, but has the basic hair and face. Same eyes, and an even concentration.

I turn away from him to see that he shoots, and a squirrel is taken down a few yards away. I let out a laugh and he looks amazed. Looking at him, I give into the sentiment and ruffle his hair.

"I'll make a hunter out of you yet, huh?"

**I hope you enjoyed it and THANK YOU FOR READING. Kudos and cookies and lovely music to all!**


	3. FOOD

**DISCLAIMER: I do NOT own the Hunger Games. Thank you for the reviews!**

Within a couple of hours, we have game. Good thing it's still summer, or I would be more worried than I am already about supplying meat for this camp. Rabbits are in the crooks of our arms; Rory has two squirrels and in my hand is a turkey that was pecking about the woods. The irony hurts as we meet up with the men, who have managed to set up twelve different snares. The thing that caused the scars on my back is the same thing that's going to help the starving people of District 12. Things just keep replaying.

We head back to our forming camp, and my steps are loud and sloppy. I need sleep, and soon, or else I'm just going to go unconscious sometime and I really don't want to do that. Still, when can you catch sleep in a place like this?

Smoke is everywhere, filling the air of the camp. Our hunting party cuts through, making people look up. I'm in the lead, and I ignore the stares and glances people give me. Half of them don't know I have even hunted before. They're surprised that a teenage boy is taking the lead in this.

I take them to the house, and I find my mother. She's helping Mrs. Everdeen, who is looking from child to child, wondering if they need anything for their sore muscles, if they had gotten any burns at all, either in the bombing or in the multiple fires that are crackling around camp.

"Mom," I say.

"Gale," she says, looking up from the fireplace. She looks exhausted as I hold out the turkey. "How am I going to cut this up, Gale?" she asks, holding out the turkey.

"I can sharpen something for you," I say.

"Would you?" She sighs, sweat all over her face. "We don't have any drinking water, Gale. Even the rain water in Twelve was clean. People can get sick from drinking straight up lake water."

"We need a way to purify it," I say. I frown. The only way we have to do that is to boil the water. Problem, though. We don't have a pot.

My mom doesn't know what to do. I don't know what to do. Our only option is to go to District 12 and see if we can find something there without getting bombed in the process.

I tell my mom, and she sighs. She tilts her head, but I say, "Mom, we can't. It's too soon. They're probably withholding bombs just in case we decide to return, to check out what's left of the district. The Capitol's sneaky like that. Mom, not yet. We have to hold out for a little while. We're going to have to just straight up drink it."

"I know, Gale, I know," she says, and she wipes at her forehead. Finally, "Fine. But, Gale-"

"Hey, Mom," I say, trying to sound nonchalant, "Look, I'll skin the animals for you. We caught more than a turkey. Some squirrels and rabbits. I can scrap off the flesh and we can burn them clean. Try animal skin canteens."

Mom looks a little hesitant, but nods quickly and says, "You do that. I'm going to go see about plucking this. Greasy Sae might have something to make out of this."

We both go through the door, and I say, "Probably good thing she doesn't have a stewing pot."

I run through the discrepant camp, my bow and arrows still on me. I find Rory, who's on a stump near but not on the edge of the camp and stacking up animals we caught, their dead, lifeless bodies looking limp under his hands.

"Hey," I say as I kneel, shrugging off my weapons and tossing the animals I carried to him. Even though I definitely want to keep an eye on my bow and arrows, seeing as there's foolhardy teens and adults who'll want to have weapons, I can't skin wearing weapons. Pulling up weeds and laying them so that they're sitting on the bow and arrows instead of the ground, I turn to Rory and produce a sharp looking silver of a rock.

He watches as I scrap the rock against another rock, sharpening it. I blow on it, flicking away the little shards that crumble into the air. I glance about as I do so; people are talking quietly, little children mostly quiet and worried looking. Worried and most aren't even six.

This is what the Capitol has done. And all this, the broken people, the starving kids, all this misery has been going on for seventy-five years. At the rate this rebellion is going, though, we won't be for long. We'll see how long we can survive out here on our own. See how long it takes to get the Capitol to go back to their Sin City, allow us to go back to District 12. Rebuild, regroup, and rebel.

And I strike the two rocks harder. My thoughts are angry and muddled. Angry at the Capitol and muddled over what will happen to Katniss (and Peeta and I guess the rest of the victors that were in that arena). They'll probably kill her for her acts. The thought makes my stomach churn, imagining her blood spilled on the ground, President Snow watching, killing a seventeen-year-old girl. Only he's sick enough to make that legal. Can't say he's the only one sick enough to find that entertaining. The Capitol is made of completely bloodthirsty bastards.

"Gale," Rory says, and I look up. He nods to the silver of rock in my hand, and he tosses me a rabbit. The thoughts of Katniss dying and Snow watching makes me rip into the rabbit like a madman. I manage not to mangle or make holes in the fur, and it comes out in one piece.

Several minutes later and I'm done. The pelts are stacked and Rory and I take the meat to where Mom is. She and Mrs. Everdeen are busy stoking a fire. Vick is keeping an awake and alert Posy entertained. Prim sits, almost lifeless, and watches. She does wince, though, as I hand Mom the skins.

The meat is roasted and we all divide what we have, which isn't a lot. Lunch consists of a piece of meat the size of my index finger, and we're in deep trouble. There's mint plants and I pick a few leaves and hand them out to the Everdeens and my family. Doesn't help too much, though. Chewing it only reminds me that my stomach and everyone else's is barely full.

While none of us are used to being full, we won't last long if we don't have meat soon. Or greens. I sit up and it hits me. Greens. We need to teach people how to identify herbs and edible plants, and supplement our meager supply of scraps.

After we're done, my mom is left burning the bacteria off of the skins and I'm calling for volunteers to help. Women, men, competent teenagers.

I have with me Mrs. Everdeen, who can identify herbs. She says that Katniss and Peeta made a sort of book over the spring, and that being a healer, she knew stuff about herbs. I can't help but grimace at her saying that about Katniss and Peeta. Something else they do together that I didn't.

Mom comes up. "Greasy Sae is with Posy, Vick and Amity," she says. Amity is Greasy Sae's little granddaughter who's out in her own world. "She says she can take care of the skins. What can I help you with?"

"Well," I say. "Let's divide everyone amongst us three. We can go off into the woods, and show them the edible herbs and the inedible. _Always _make sure they check back with you with their pick. We're going to need to go over what they pick or someone is going to get poisoned."

Mom nods and I turn and clap my hands, drawing attention to myself. I explain the plan. A few mutter, a few drift away at the thought of actually going into the woods and picking greens.

By the time I'm done, I call for people to split up between myself, Mom and Mrs. Everdeen, and I lead my group behind the house. The foundation is cracking slightly under the weight it now has to bear. I draw my bow, which I had pulled out from under the weeds with my arrows, up my shoulder more and take set steps away from the house that's haunting me with memories.

We walk a few hundred year and beneath the leaves I point out plants. Herbs and wild onions stick out, and people take to the wild onions quickly, for they're easily recognizable. Roots are being dug up when one little girl, around eight, comes up to me with her hands full of something and asks, "Is this okay?"

A quick look makes me shake my head and gently scrape them out of her hands. Bending to her height, I say, "Those mushrooms are poisonous. Just stick with the onions and dandelions, okay?"

She nods and hurries off, and I yell for no one to pick the mushrooms. The only one I trust is me, and I find a nice little bunch. Tear them off by their stumps and grasp them all, containing them in my hand like a cage.

That's when, in the quiet woods with nothing more than a few light conversations floating about, I hear it again.

A bomb.

Everyone's heads turn up and alert, like rabbits when they hear me accidentally crushing a leaf. The bombs sounds like they're still a while away, but how much is a while away when District 12 is just a few hours' walk from here?

Instantly, I stand and yell, "Get back to the house. Go on, stop picking, move!"

Some sprigs fall from people's hands but most of their picked herbs and plants stay with them as they hurry to the house. Despite the new alertness of a looming bomb, last night's walk hangs onto people's legs, pulling them down.

My legs are on fire as I pound ahead, turning back and yelling to people to move. I don't know if we're safe at the house. I don't know if the Capitol even knows that some of 12's residents escaped. All I know is that the government is shooting weapons on the land, and they want to hit humans. They want the people of District 12, home of the Girl on Fire, to suffer, to be made an example of, before the whole nation.

They want to make sure it's fully decimated, but even if they do bomb District 12 further, there's one thing for sure. Even if we don't survive another round of Capitol bombs, the rebellion will still live on. The fire's already started.

I make it to the back of the house before my knees go out and I feel my eyes closing. My heart pounds, and another bomb drops. There's screams, yelling, but an impending blackness is falling, and the last thing I feel is the rough wall of the house before everything fades into blackness.

All that's really left is the foggy background of screams.

* * *

I wake up on the floor of the woods, and a spark from the fire in front of me leaps out and attacks my face. I immediately wipe it off as I sit up. And that's when I feel an incredible amount of pain in my ribs and my arm. I hiss and look at my arm. It hurts like hell, and it's in a rag sling. With my other hand, I look under my shirt to see my ribs bandaged, and the movement makes me hiss. I hear a voice say excitedly, "Mommy, Gale woke up!"

My mom comes out of the house, looking even but with a relieved air as she puts a hand on my forehead.

"Mom-"

"You passed out. Fatigue and lack of nutrition and dehydration," Mrs. Everdeen says from across the fire. She nods to me arm. "You fell on your arm. People walked on you, causing severe bruising to your ribcage. Along with a bit of blood. It should be mended now. Be careful."

I sigh and wipe my face with my hand, which only results in me getting fresh poultice on my hand. Just as things start happening, I pull a sick move. Sure helping everyone doing that.

By the fire, tied between two exes that are on either side of the fire, is a skin from a rabbit. I can hear the water in it bubbling, and glancing at it, I can see that the fur from the animal is burning away. Still, it's high enough from the flames to not catch fire or burn a hole through.

Mom takes the skin off and I ask, "Where were the bombs set off?"

"We're presuming District 12," Mom says. "A few men wanted to go out to check out the district, but the explosions were just an hour ago. It's not safe, at all." She looked at me, hard, and says, "How are you feeling?"

"Fine, fine," I say, though my bones are protesting as I make to stand up. Mom gives me another long look as I say, "Well, I'm going to go see if I can hunt a few more animals before night falls. Did you check out the plants everyone's gathered?"

Mom nods. "They're being distributed, most to those who picked. Gale, you should sit down, just for a while longer. You've barely gotten any sleep."

"Mom," I say, "I'm fine."

I look around out little campsite, and I frown. "Where's my bow?" I look to Posy and Vick, who are playing with their hands together in some sort of game. "Vick, Posy, have you seen my bow and arrows?" Katniss's bow and arrows are hidden away in a log. I immediately took them from Vick and hid them, but kept mine on me in case I needed them at a moment's notice. Those same weapons are now gone, and I want to know who took them.

Posy's childish face immediately shakes and Vick quickly says, "I haven't seen them, Gale."

Sighing, I turn to my mother, who shakes her head. So does Mrs. Everdeen, but Prim says, "I think some of the men from the mines might have seen them. They were over here asking questions about you while you were out."

Prim stands and leads me over to the men who were at our camp. I stomp a bit around the campfires as my blood boils. Those are the bow that Katniss's father made and the arrows that Katniss and I managed to fashion together. Without those, with no knife, I'm defenseless, and if I'm defenseless, everyone else in this camp is sure as hell defenseless.

Not to mention it's just irritating that someone stole my things from me. They don't even know how to use a bow. It's a stupid and senseless move and I'd rather not have to put up with people trying to play the hero when they know nothing.

"Darek," I say, approaching his fire. Prim stands behind me, and I am not going to let anyone get between her and me. Shielding her, I look at the Seam man. He looks a bit annoyed, as if I've invaded his personal area. "Where's my bow and arrows?"

"Your what, son?" he asks.

"My bow and arrows. My weapons, where are they? Prim says you were by my family's campfire while I was out. You took them, where the hell are they?" I ask him, trying to sound even and calm. I don't have to get worked up about this, but he's making it hard to not be.

"Don't know what you're talking about," he says.

That's enough. The way he's not meeting my eyes, talking casually, not even trying to sound himself, has given him away. I stomp over and say in an angry voice, "Look, we're not going to survive long if you don't give me my bow. You can try and defend people, or even just try to defend yourself, but that's selfish, and with you growing up in the Seam, I thought you'd learn that selfishness won't get you anywhere. Now, give me my things before I have to physically take it from you."

He looks at me, long and hard, and I stare back. While the Hunger Games never did anything good for me except a few food rations, there's one thing I learned from years of watching those Games: Never back down. Always stare back. Intimidate your opponent before they intimidate you. You'll more than likely win.

And in a moment, he hands me my bow and quiver. I hold them close, count the arrows, my rough fingers touching the feathery tips of the ends. He looks at me, mad, as I slid the quiver onto my back and grasp my bow.

"Don't try any of that again, or hell will pay," I say. I turn to Prim, who's biting her nails, and say in a kinder but still irritated voice, "C'mon, Prim. Let's get back to our fire."

She nods, and I put a hand on her back and guide her back to the fire. She sits quietly and turns to her mother and starts to talk to her as I look to my mother and say, "I'm going now."

Hunting by myself feels somewhat freeing. No longer having to watch for Rory or anyone else helps me, but I also feel sort of lonely. Looking up at a tree to shoot a squirrel, I remember how Katniss used to climb those trees. When we found fruit, she'd throw them, and I'd catch them. It was like a ball game, and we'd laugh. She rarely laughs, or even smiles, but she used to laugh and try to bonk my head with the fruits. When it was nuts, she'd shake the tree, and grin when nuts fell on my head.

And that's gone now. And we're never going to go back to the time when we were just two teens hunting in the woods, foraging for food and talking. That's gone now. All because of the Capitol and their damn Games.

Upon returning, I hear men from the mine, and I turn and see them together. All in a circle, and they're talking quietly amongst themselves. I want to pass them by, to ignore them, but I stop when one says, "We need to get back to Twelve. If there's anything there, anything the Capitol has left-"

"Then we're not going back," I say, turning to them. They look at me reprovingly, some that I don't know remembering me as the boy who yelled people to move and the boy who was whipped publicly in front of the district. To them I look young, but I'm the only one who's done anything, and the only one who's figured out Capitol tactics in my mind.

"They're going to bomb it more. Make a show of it. Show the other districts that since Katniss came from Twelve, Twelve dies. If you or anyone goes back there, they're gone." I set my lips and give everyone a long glare before I turn and leave.

**Hopefully y'all liked this chapter. Thank you for reading!**


	4. Hunting Amongst Familiar Territory

**DISCLAIMER: I do NOT own the Hunger Games. **

The night was relatively hard to get through. There was the constant small chatter of people who couldn't go to sleep. The cry of infants, the pale children trying to sleep but with the pangs of hunger in their stomachs, that was hard. Posy cried hard, leaving the rest of the people around our campfire on edge as Mom tried to keep her calm.

I somehow managed to get some sleep after making sure that people were set up as guards, taking shifts so people didn't have to pull an all-nighter.

That was last night. Now it's morning, and the grey light covers the entire wood. There doesn't seem to be anymore of that bright sunlight that had been present yesterday. No, today you can feel the misery in the air. The looming gloom of our doom. Smoke fills the air as people get up and start to add firewood to their campfires.

My muscles stiff and sore, I rub my legs and arms with a dirty hand. I haven't tried to keep myself clean at all. Growing up in District 12, you get used to dust everywhere and having only a bit of dirty water to wash with that is also the only water for three other little kids. At least that water was boiled first.

Things almost fall into a routine. I pick up my bow and arrows, which I warily hid in a thicket, away from the thieving hands of desperate citizens. I leave Mom to start out groups to the woods for more herbs and plants and Posy being comforted after being woken up with an empty stomach by a relatively calm Prim, who takes to taking care of her like Katniss did with her.

With that thought, I go into the woods. Automatically now, though having been out of the rut of hunting for a while, I try to shoot, but then I remember my bandaged arm. My ribs are already aching. These injuries are mounting up.

I kick at a rock. Maybe it's everything that's happening that's mounting up. The rebellion starting, the added burden of carrying for hundreds of people, keeping my weapons to myself while wondering what we should do in the meantime: Hide in the woods and starve or go back to 12?

Going back to 12 is a suicide mission. With more bombs yesterday, it isn't safe.

But neither is here. Not with the starving and defenseless hordes.

I let out a wry laugh as I force myself to walk back to the camp. Never would I have thought a few years back that this is the situation I'd be in. I wouldn't have counted on Katniss being thrown into the Hunger Games. That happened, though. And there's nothing I can do to get her back.

Seeing her shoot an arrow into the arena's outer shell two nights ago, was the last time I'd see her alive? Was that the last time I'd see her ever again?

I don't like having questions like this, for either the answer is hard to come by, or it's an answer I don't like. So I mentally shut out those thoughts, thinking only of keeping my footsteps quiet against the forest floor as I make my way back to the camp.

On the way in, I pick up a few sticks. The constantly going fires, while keeping everyone, especially me, extremely hot, keeps predators away. They also helped with purifying the water, which my mom has been working at constantly. We're keeping at it, thought it's hard work with few results. People have resorted to drinking straight lake water, and while only a few have thrown up, most everyone's been surprisingly fine. Their bodies haven't reacted in throwing up merely because they've grow immune to bad water. Still, it's not helping their insides, and Mrs. Everdeen is working hard to encouraging people not to drink it.

Heading back into camp, people watch me, but I have grown undeterred by their stares. I instead toss the firewood by the campfire. Rory and Vick look up, and so does Mom. She's aged in the past two days. I frown at her worn face.

That's when I see Bristel walking up to us. Her feet stumble along the ground, her eyes underlined with bags and her voice is summoned from a stronger part of her as she says, "Gale, I want to you to teach me how to use your bow."

I look back at her, slightly taken back. "What?"

"Come on. Look, I don't think I did well with fishing yesterday. I want to catch real animals with real meat on them. Gale, come on," she says, and she glances back, and I notice Thom watching us.

"Thom too?" I ask quietly, looking back to her.

She turns back to me. "Yeah."

I shift the thought through my mind. While Rory's already got the hang of the bow and arrow, he is also tired and helping Mom. I could have Bristel and Thom go fishing again, and there's no argument against them doing it. Still, the look in her eye, pleading me to not make her work the net and determined not to go back, makes me sigh and say, "I guess."

"Really?" she asks.

"Yes, but then you and Thom will have to go fishing again when we're done," I tell her. But she smiles and I stand up, grabbing one of the last long lengths of rope from the net, and Thom comes and joins us. He too has big bags under his eyes. He's roughly half a year older than me, but he's a good two inches shorter.

"Come on," I say, and their feet pound against the earth, crunching the leaves and pine cones as we make our way past the people to the edge of the wood. I can smell the lake as we pass it, and it's that lasting smell of fish and plants floating on the top of the surface that reminds me of when I had gone to see Katniss here. The lake had been frozen then, but it still had its smell. I remember looking at the ice encrusted plants before I headed into the house, which had smoke coming out of the chimney. It's strange. Even this little estranged house by the lake is better than several of the grey, falling-apart shacks in District 12. Or what used to be in District 12.

We find ourselves next to a snare. I'm easily able to see the rope between the rocks and trees. I pass my bow and arrows over to Thom, who takes them, and I go to the snare. My hand starts to gently untie the rope holding a rabbit in place. If I felt sentimental and not murderous, I could say that the rabbit was pretty cute. But I only see it as meat as I take it out of the trap. Its neck is broken.

I hold it up, examining it for any bad fault, and Bristel's face scrunches a little, a snarl at her nose, a wrinkle in her cheek. "How long has that been dead?"

"No more than eighteen hours," I say, and I set it on a high branch to keep it away from any predatory small animal looking for an easy meal.

I get to work at teaching Thom and Bristel how to use my bow. They're slightly impatient, making me snap at them on occasion, but I mostly stay quiet as they offer suggestions and comments on the other's stance as they hold the bow. I can't demonstrate, so they actually have to listen. They could if they tried.

"You should spread your feet a bit more," Bristel says, leaning against a tree.

"I'm fine," Thom says, not bother to look at her as he draws it into position.

"You should turn a bit more-"

"He's fine, Bristel," I say irritably. We've already spent nearly three-quarters of an hour on this lesson, and that's valuable time that we could spend out hunting. In that three-quarters of an hour, when I wasn't repositioning them or demonstrating to them, I was bent over, my fingers picking herbs and plants automatically. I now have a large pile that I'm going through, just to make sure that in my mindless doing I didn't pick anything poisonous.

I wipe my hand on my pants, grab my herbs and stand up. "Guys," my voice is firm, "time to move on. Let's find a good place to shoot. I'll set up snares. You two can argue and not break my bow."

Thom and Bristel exchange looks and bow their heads, nodding. Thom puts my bow on his shoulder and Bristel carries the quiver, and they follow me as I lead us through the woods.

We climb about for hours, searching and stopping every hour or so. I make snares the best I can with one hand, utilizing rocks and sticks to my advantage, baiting the snares with appetizing plants that look like they've never been pulled from the ground and placed into a trap. My ribs send pangs through me at times.

Bristel and Thom keep to the heights, and I repeatedly have to tell them not to laugh as they make their way up the giant rocks, which are more like boulders. They're scaring away the game, and their laughter sounds too happy for the situation we're in.

Though we're moving back to our old hunting grounds by a different route, I can easily tell where we're going. The sun's come up, shining through the clouds. The moss on the trees are a telltale of where north is. Thom and Bristel listen to me and do everything I tell them to do as we walk. We go across streams, soaking our feet, pass over pine needles that are fine on my feet but poke the tender skin of Bristel and Thom's feet. My skin had been toughened, literally, on the harsh wood floor. Katniss and I used to walk around barefoot to keep quiet until we learned to keep our noise done while wearing shoes. It was toward winter when we first learned.

I'm not sure if it's intentional, but as we sit with our bounty and munch on our herbs and nuts that we've been collecting as we pass them, I realize that we're in our old hunting grounds. While I should be worried about the bombs and the Capitol finding us here, I can't help as I chew thoughtfully and look around, taking it in. We passed through here on the way to the house. How many more times will I just come up here, looking for a memory, a remnant of what once was?

I sigh and stand up, and Thom and Bristel do the same, brushing their hands on their pants. For their first day, they did relatively well after they finished squabbling. We have about six squirrels, and I've discovered three of the other snares that the miners had managed to pull together. One was empty, but thankfully the other two had rabbits. I even managed to quickly take the bow from Thom at a roaring river and shoot a beaver that was making up a dam. It was thicker than usual. I sucked in a breath as Bristel and Thom let out hoots of excitement. We're in for a long and cold winter.

The sun's hit its peak and it's now going slowly but steadily lower. We walk up a hill, heading nearer to the sky where we can get a clear look at the birds that are out and flying, and I realize something as we get to the peak of the hill.

Bristel and Thom stop and look up at the sky, one ready with the bow, the other covering their eyes with their hand against the sky. I ignore them, though, and travel down the hill a few feet until I reach a spot I know all too well. It's a little seat, almost like a bench, amongst the weeds and the brush of the hill. Overgrown but not forgotten. I stoop and pat it with my hand, and it's it.

It's Katniss and my old meeting space.

Bristel must have noticed me walking off, and she calls, "Gale?"

I barely hear her as my knees fall and I take my usual spot. It's childish and sentimental, but the memory of waiting for Katniss here for years fills my mind, and I look over the view, which has remained the same. There's no smoke. There's no explosions. It's calm and late summer and it's just the one thing that's never changed with the Hunger Games ruining my life.

"Gale?" I hear, and I turn to see Bristel and Thom right beside me. Taller, looking down and slightly concerned as to why I've suddenly just gone and sat on the ground. Thom adds after a moment, "Mind if we sit down?"

I shrug, and they sit. I look at the space where they were, though, and part of me is expecting to see Katniss's running over the ridge, her dad's bag on her, her bow ready to be put to use, her braid whipping about in her haste. She doesn't come.

I turn back and look at the view. The sun's halfway down the sky now.

A few minutes passes, and I can feel Bristel's look as she watches me. After a moment, her cracked lips press into a line before saying, "Is this where you used to hunt with her? With Katniss?"

I don't answer for a moment. Our spot used to be just ours. Quiet and private, away from prying eyes. Away from questioning mouths and free.

But even now it's lost that quality.

"Yes," I say quietly, and neither of us say anything else.

**Honestly, there's nothing much that happened in those three days. Hopefully this is a good filler chapter, and _thank you _for reading!**


	5. District 13, Hello!

**DISCLAIMER: I do NOT own the Hunger Games. YAY FOR STUFF HAPPENING YESSSSSS.**

I talk to nobody but Mom for the rest of the day. Bristel and Thom are more cheerful than I, and are proud as they show my mom the stuff we picked and hunted today. She smiles, nods and watches me with a sad expression as I say, "I'm going to get more firewood."

There's a pile right next to our fire, but I don't care.

The evening passes over with severe coughing from the fires and people talking. The boys play with Prim and Posy. They actually smile and laugh. Even Prim, who has wrinkles on her forehead and an old face for a thirteen-year-old. She's barely smiled ever since Katniss left to her death. Neither have I. We're both worried, but since she doesn't know how to talk about that sort of stuff and I don't want to, we don't. We both inwardly suffer in silence, and at the moment, there's nothing we can do about it.

* * *

Morning comes, and it's the same old thing. Fishing, watching Rory hunt, gathering, barely talking, boiling water, watching, listening, waiting. Waiting for something to happen. Are we waiting for a bomb? Are we waiting for the Capitol to find us? Are we waiting for rebel soldiers? I hadn't thought of this happening when we came to this house. All I thought was to get people out of District 12, and fast.

There was something I noticed yesterday. It was red and barely noticeable, and I just dismissed it as Bristel and Thom pushed ahead. But I'm sure I know what are hidden in the bushes. Strawberries, and I feel a slight pang, remembering the mayor's daughter. She's gone now.

I sigh and allow myself only that. It's another dark and dusty feeling morning. Mrs. Everdeen applies another layer of herbs to my neck and asks about my arm and then I'm going off into the woods by myself. Just for a little bit. A little time at the strawberry patch to not have to be around these tired and sick people, to just have time to _breathe_.

I tell Mom I'm off, and in a few minutes I'm walking past a bunch of Seam kids, all too young to have gone into the mines, all old enough to be in the reaping. They're talking amongst themselves, acting like the teenage boys they are. About girls and all that. I tend to avoid that sort of stuff, seeing as the girl I like is gone.

Well, they're loud, with their annoying laughter filling the glum and serious camp. It sticks out like a fish out of water, and I throw them an irritable look as they snicker at something or other.

I pass them, telling myself just to ignore them and their infernal laughter, when I hear one say, "Hey, did the blondie from town make it out?"

"Well, that narrows it down to half of town. Which one?" another says.

"The mayor's daughter," and I immediately turn to look at them suspiciously. My eyes narrow: What are they saying about Madge? I highly doubt that anybody from the Seam besides Katniss and me and our families associated with Madge. She was from town, and people from town barely want to be known to be with people from the Seam.

"Oh, her?" one says. He shrugs, and I feel indignant at how easily he shrugs. I know the answer to the first one's question. She didn't make it out because I wasn't able to get to town fast enough. It's my fault, and the Capitol's. Both of us are to blame for her death. The Seam boy continues, "Haven't seen her the entire time we've been here. Guess she's not here."

"Shame," the first one says. He leans against a rock and says, "She was a nice looking thing."

A rush of anger overcomes me, and I turn, and my jaw sets as I hurry over to them. The first one adds, "I mean, if she had made it out, she would have noticed me here, and who knows? Her parents gone too, she'd need someone to comfort her-"

"Hey, Gawson," I say, recognizing him as a wiry, pathetic looking fifteen-year-old. Even looking like that, half-starved, I can't help but feel like punching the hell out of him. We're here, practically starving in the woods, and he's sitting about the fire, talking about that if Madge had survived, she would have been with him. Like hell. Madge had better taste. He notices me, and I say in my quietest, most serious voice, "How about you move your lazy ass and start helping before I beat the hell out of you?"

He looks at me, and though his face is thin, I think he's making an effort to look defiant.

"I can say whatever I want," he says. "Besides, how can you fight me with only one arm?"

That's when I cross over to him, and looking into his face with a motivated death glare, I say, "That girl you're talking about, she's dead, and even if she was here, she wouldn't even look at you."

I step away, a dark frown on my face, and looking around, say, "Does anybody else want to add anything or defend your pathetic friend?"

That's then they stand up, their hands clasping into fists. Fine. My mouth, while usually withheld, has lashed out, and now I really, really don't have the time to go and beat up on a bunch of emaciated teenage boys who think they have something to prove when they talk like that about Madge.

My bow slides off of my shoulder. I still keep it on me, despite my arm. A fight they want? Fine. Let's see what they'll say about Madge when they're covered in bruises. Probably not much, since I'm going to be busting noses and lips.

"Gale," I hear, but I ignore the innocent voice. I step forward, they do the same, and then again, "Gale!"

I stop and turn silently to see Prim behind me. She looks terrified, her blue eyes big, but she gulps and says, "There's-there's something you've got to see. A hovercraft!"

A hovercraft. I instantly grab my bow and ignore the shouts of "Coward!" and "Come back here!" They show a lot of bravado for being so skinny.

I rush after Prim through the camp, where people are starting to stand up, surprised at what they're seeing. Along the lake, on the opposite side of the house, a large amount of forceful wind is flooding some of the camp. I reach the water's edge where Bristel and Thom have pulled their lines in favor of watching the hovercraft in amazement.

It could be anything. The Capitol could be descending on us right now. They could come in with their squads of 'Peacekeepers' and start to wipe us out. They'd overtake us quickly. If there's any chance for us to escape, the time is now. And yet none of us are moving. We're all watching, transfixed, watching as the hovercraft starts to appear. Bristel, brushing hair from her face that's flying everywhere, hurriedly turns her head and says quickly, "Gale, there's more."

I whip around to see that more patches of leaves on the trees are moving around violently, and I can just tell that hovercrafts are trying to find places to land. I wouldn't think it surprising if they descended onto some of the people just so they could have a place to land.

The wind starts to push people back, and my heart's pounding. How did they find us? I guess the Capitol knew that we had left, disappeared right from under their noses. That wouldn't do, so they sent search parties, to find us and kill us. They're sure not going to have mercy on us or just take us as prisoners. What's a bunch of expendable people who just use up supplies and are from the districts?

Maybe they'll just turn us all into Avoxes, though I highly doubt that.

My bow's in my hands and I want to position it to shoot, but I can't, with one arm. Still, if I could, my one bow against a bunch of Capitol hovercrafts with Peacekeepers with. Well, the odds aren't exactly in my favor, now are they?

Effie Trinket's trilly voice fills my head with her phrase, and she needs to go away. I take a deep breath.

Keeping myself calm, I ignore the shouts, the screams, the wails of horror, the sounds of children crying and men yelling and people running toward the center of the camp, people rushing into the house. We're surrounded on all sides by now multiple hovercrafts. Darting into the woods is suicide. You'd easily get shot down. Staying here is suicide. We're doomed either way.

The Capitol hovercrafts stop in mid-air. They don't start to move down anymore, but a ladder falls from one of them, and then another, and another, and on each of the ladders, which slowly descend, is a figure.

I narrow my eyes and step closer to the one across the lake. A man gets off the ladder, and he turns to face us. He's close shaven, wearing grey, looking old with gray hair, and tired. He's obviously not from the Capitol, who have their tattoos and brightly colored wigs and imbedded beads.

But he has a gun.

I reach for my bow despite myself, and he looks around and says, noticing me, "Don't try anything stupid, son."

"Maybe if you just tell us who you are and why you're here, I won't shoot you," I lie, my voice cold but even. He can easily tell that I can't shoot him, though.

Beside me I can feel Prim's eyes widen and look up at me, but I don't shake.

The man doesn't say anything for a moment. He looks like he's contemplating us. He and I stare at each other, our eyes never leaving the other. I only sneak away once, to look around and see other men and women with guns coming off of the ladders of the hovercrafts. All are non-smiling, their guns in their hands with the straps over their shoulders, and they're all looking to the man across the lake from me. He must be their leader.

My look away is enough for him to be halfway around the lake by the time I look back. The crowd stops with their talking and screaming to listen as he says, "I am Commander James Boggs. I'm here with soldiers from District Thirteen, sent by President Coin to take all the refugees from District Twelve to District Thirteen."

The crowd immediately start to yell and talk and argue and murmur behind me but I keep my eyes on the man. Commander? President Coin? District Thirteen? I'm in shock. The place exists. It has to exist, or else where would these hovercrafts come from? Not from the Capitol, unless . . .

I say in a clear voice, "Do you know Haymitch Abernathy?"

Boggs nods and says, "Victor of the Fiftieth Hunger Games. Drunk as a skunk at any given moment. He's with people from District Thirteen right now. I can go get him for you on the phone, though I highly doubt you want to rustle him up."

My eyes stop narrowing, and my shoulder slacks. Only people who have known Haymitch know he's a pain in the ass. I've only had to see him a couple of times when I visited the Everdeens. We never conversed very much. Probably a good thing.

Boggs clears his throat and adds, "We have Katniss Everdeen."

Instantly I feel distrustful. Why would they have Katniss? How the hell did they get past the Capitol and rescue her? Even if they managed to get past the Capitol and their imperturbable weapons, who knows what they could be doing to Katniss right now. Torturing her? Holding her for information? Using her as a bargaining chip, but for what? What could we have that they need? There's a hundred questions on my lips, but I keep quiet.

I say after a moment, tired of the tense silence between us, "Where did you get her? How did you rescue her?"

"I can explain that in a minute, once everyone is on board. We need to get to District Thirteen in three hours, Coin's orders. Look, son, unless you want to stay here and wait for the Capitol to come and take you out, I suggest you let us take you to Thirteen."

He has a point. At the moment, this District 13 is our only chance. He's talking to me, though, and I realize that I'm the only one standing in the way of everyone heading to where they say they have Katniss.

I let go of my bow, let it relax on my shoulder, and give a nod. And he starts shouting out orders.

* * *

The ladders from the hovercrafts go up and down repeatedly. People let out little squeaks once they somehow get frozen onto the ladder, meaning either they're surprised or in pain. I immediately turn and grab Prim's hand, and we start to head to our campfire.

"What-what are we doing, Gale?" she says breathlessly. Her legs are shorter and slower than my own, which are now running on adrenaline.

I barely hear her. My mind is racing. How could this - there is a District 13. There really is a District 13. The people here could be Capitol people pretending to be people from District 13, but why would they bother to go and dress up when they could just come out and start shooting at us? This District 13 is real, Haymitch has been somehow communicating with them, somehow, I don't know, and they claim to have Katniss.

Mom has Posy on her hip, and Vick and Rory are around her, with Mrs. Everdeen saying, "Gale, what's happening?"

Tough thing to answer. I sum it up in one sentence. "There really is a District Thirteen."

* * *

We're on one of the hovercrafts. These things are way bigger on the inside than the outside. It's shiny, dark and there's seats. Soldiers from District 13 are making sure that everyone is secured in their seats. They are all frowning and quiet, only saying orders in quiet tones.

Prim's looking scared, and she holds onto Rory's hand, who sits next to her. They're both buckled into the wall, which has seats sticking out of it. Next to Prim is Mrs. Everdeen, who is holding her other hand and is looking around the hovercraft with a childlike wonder. Mom, Vick and Posy are on the other side of Rory, Posy whimpering and Mom whispering to her.

I don't have a seat, however. A soldier comes up to me and wraps up my arm in a better sling than what Mrs. Everdeen had my arm in. It feels better on my arm. I wave a hand away from the bruising on my ribs, though, for I really, really don't want to have to deal with a new bandage. Not at the moment. The soldier says as she applies ointment to my burnt face, "You're going to have to get a new bandage once we're in Thirteen."

After that, she leaves to take care of the next burn victim, and I'm assigned a soldier to escort me through the hovercraft.

One of the soldiers, a girl, no older than eighteen, with dark brown hair in a plain bun and a tall height, walks up to me. She's frowning, and her gun is resting in her hands like a baby, a strap over her shoulder.

"I am Soldier Agrava. I have been assigned to escort you to the captain's deck where Commander Boggs has called you," and she turns and beckons for me to follow her.

I don't argue with her, knowing that she knows the way around this hovercraft while I don't. I fall in step behind her authoritative, marching, precise steps.

At one corner, she turns abruptly and says, "What is your name, Soldier?"

"Gale Hawthorne, and I'm not a soldier," I say quickly.

"Everyone fourteen and older is a soldier in District Thirteen. You and the other refugees are now part of District Thirteen, or at least taking part in it at the moment. Therefore, your name is Soldier Hawthorne, Soldier Hawthorne," she says, and she turns and says in a sharper voice, "keep up!"

We go through a door into a clear section, with glass covering the ceiling and the windows. There's a man at a seat, and he's surrounded by buttons and switches and he has his hands on a wheel, taking nonsense into something on his ear.

Soldier Agrava steps forward and says, "Commander Boggs, sir!" and she puts a hand to her forehead. I look, confused, to where she's looking, and I see Boggs is standing at a window. He's talking for a second, says 'goodbye,' and then puts the receiver of a phone back onto its spot. He turns to us, and looking at Soldier Agrava, says, "At ease, Soldier."

She puts her hand down and Boggs says, "Thank you, Soldier Agrava. You're dismissed."

She nods and hurries away, and I can feel the door close behind her. Boggs looks at me for a moment, studying me, and I feel like I should say something. I clear my throat and say the first thing I want to know, "Where's Katniss?"

"She's in a hovercraft, heading to District Thirteen." He nods to a metallic table and chair set, and he says, "Better sit down, son."

"My name's Gale."

"All right, sit down, Gale."

We both take seats. I sit across from him, the farthest seat from him as possible. He folds his hands and clearing his throat, and starts:

"Katniss, with her arrow, broke a barrier around the arena. It was like a dome, a shield, keeping the tributes from accessing the outside world. It broke, and the Capitol played fireworks to try to cover it up. That's when the camera footage for the districts went point blank.

"Our hovercraft was above the arena. With help from the Head Gamemaker, Plutarch Heavensbee, we had found the place where the arena was. However, other Capitol hovercrafts were there, and we only had one claw. We managed to save Katniss Everdeen, Finnick Odair and Beetee Wilder."

So they had not managed to rescue Peeta.

"The Capitol has Peeta Mellark, Johanna Mason, Enobaria Leapsor, and a former victor named Annie Cresta has been taken from her home, kidnapped by the Capitol. Currently, Haymitch and Plutarch are with the rescued tributes and should be at District Thirteen a few hours after us."

I stare at him, hard, for a moment. He looks back at me with a solemn look. Up close, he looks only in his early forties.

And I start to almost convulse, anger filling me, my mind raging with questions, filling my mouth and slipping off of my tongue too fast, making me trip over my own words, "So there's been another district this entire time? And you knew about the Hunger Games? And you didn't-didn't even _try _to come and help us out? You just let the Capitol come and take our children and make them _kill _each other on national TV for their entertainment? And you just stood by and let that happen? You ignored us for seventy-five years! How-how - why - why'd you, you cowards just come out of hiding now? Why? Tell me!"

He looks at me, hard, and my breathing fills my ears, and I can barely restrain myself from just standing up and getting out of here, too mad to just look at his calm face. He answers after a moment, "Because of Katniss."

I let out a scoff. "What did she do? Catch your eye with being lit on fire? Is that what you needed to see?"

"She lit the rebellion. She started the districts up. We couldn't be able to just rebel against the Capitol. The top of our district was demolished seventy-five years ago. We threatened to bomb the Capitol. We came to a truce. We don't bomb them, they leave us alone. That's what we did. Now, with the other districts rebelling within themselves, we have enough people to help take out the Capitol. We couldn't intervene before now."

Boggs takes a deep breath and says, "Gale, look, you need to calm down. You're not helping anybody being riled up."

I lean back in my chair. All right. They didn't have the power or the means to take the Capitol. But they had bombs. But the Capitol had their districts they could force to do their bidding. With the districts out of their grasp, 13 could come in and attack. They had reason. They had right. It's just the fact that they watched the Games in their district with the rest of us suffering anxiety, pain and loss concerning the Games that still angers me. But now nothing else.

Boggs holds out his hand, "Gale, let's agree to work together. You're nothing now. You need District Thirteen. Your district's gone, obliterated."

He needs to rub it in, doesn't he? But I lean forward and shake his hand. He leans back afterwards and says, "We'll be in Thirteen in less than forty-five minutes."

* * *

I'm outside the hospital wing of District 13. We've been here, what, six hours? and we've already been situated into the daily routine of District 13. I was immediately taken to the war room upon arrival after my ribs were treated, and met President Coin. A cold, calculating woman, she nodded upon finding out what I did for District 12, and said coolly, "He'd make a good officer."

I found my family in their own appointed room. On the beds were neatly folded appointed piles of clothes. I kept on my own shirt to not disturb my bandage, which was replaced and had medicine applied to it.

A nurse comes out of the room, and she says, "You can go in, now."

I nod and enter, passing through into a quiet room. There's a beeping noise, and it's coming from the machine that's attached to Katniss. She's looking scrawnier than usual, lying on her side, her arm at a strange sleeping angle. She has scabs, burns, but otherwise they cleaned her up pretty well. A bag of drugs hangs over her head. She's under at the moment. But she's alive, and that's something I let out a sigh of pure relief over.

That's when she stirs, and I quickly lean over her as she opens her eyes and searches. She's under, all right, but she notices me, and despite all the hell we've been through, I smile a very, very tiny smile.

"Gale?" she says.

"Hey, Catnip," I reply.

She studies me for a moment, and then rasps, "Prim?"

"She's alive. So is your mother. I got them out in time," I say. "After the Game, they sent in planes. Dropped firebombs," and I sigh. She's looking at me intently, silently urging me to tell her more, and at the moment, I don't know if either she or I can handle the truth of our old district being burnt to the ground. "Well, you know what happened to the Hob."

"They're not in District Twelve?"

I wince.

"Katniss . . ."

She closes her eyes, and I can just tell she knows something's up, we're obviously not in District Twelve. "Don't," she whispers.

I look at her, hard, and taking a breath, say quickly and firmly, "Katniss, there is no District Twelve."

**Thanks for reading, it's really late and I want SLEEP but bye! :)  
**


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